After Hours: Nayanna Edition
by AgentNote
Summary: Dianna finds Naya in a bathroom, who evidently has secrets she's never revealed to anyone. Will Dianna be her rock, or will she create an even bigger problem? A Nayanna RPF. Please review! Rated T for now, maybe M later on.
1. Alone

**A/N: This is the third fic in my After Hours series. It's a bit different because 1) it's an RPF and 2) it'll most likely be a multi-chapter fic. This story is dedicated to all my reviewers from Unrequited Love (it's on my profile if you want to check it out-it's a Heya fic) who wanted Nayanna. I told you I'd get around to writing some Nayanna for ya'll and here it is, the finished product! Please review; your input is really what makes me want to write. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee. This fic is unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine.**

**Spoilers: Maybe some. This takes place now, so any rumours about season 3 are fair game.**

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><p>["It is strange to be known so universally and yet to be so lonely." -Albert Einstein]<p>

"Naya?"

I look up to find a pair of eyes and a set of blonde hair in my face. She's kneeling on the ground right in front of me, her baby blue dress riding up the tiniest of bits. I immediately try to wipe away the cascading tears, the smudged makeup, but it's no use, no matter how hard I try I continue to weep. I have been for the good part of an hour, too. Once I was done filming with Heather, I was out of there, running off to anywhere so long as it didn't involve my best friend. I needed space. So here I am, leaning against the back of a wall in one of the many bathrooms here on set. It's one of the nicer ones though, I so I don't terribly mind. I do mind, however, that someone managed their way in; I was nearly sure I locked the door. Guess not.

"W-what are you doing here?" I finally splutter out, my attempts at making the words semi-resolved failing.

"I just wanted to check on you. I ran into Heather and she said she'd been looking for you everywhere. She told me you ran away right after you were done shooting?"

I sniffle. "Yeah, uh, I had to talk to…Ryan about…something. It's all good now."

"Really?" she asks, a hint of 'I'm not stupid and I know that's not true' evident in her voice.

"Yeah…"

"I don't believe that for one second."

"Well it's true," I snap. I'm so not in the mood for a serious talk right now. I just want to wash my face, get out of Santana's Cheerios uniform, and head home. I need to be alone, some time to think things through. Sure I've been doing a lot of thinking lately, a huge amount of siphoning through feelings with a fine-toothed comb, but it's what needs to be done. Plus, I'm not ready to share any of what's been on my mind with anyone else, so I really have no one to talk to but myself anyways.

"If it's true then why are you in here crying?"

"Dianna," I warn, not wanting to go into this.

"Please, Naya, just talk to me."

"Hmm let me think for a minute. No." My voice is cold and sarcastic and I want nothing more than to stand up and march out, not giving her a second glance. I don't however, I just stay where I am, curling my knees under my chin and wrapping my tan arms around them. I wish I could stay like this forever, safe and in the comforts of a quiet, peaceful room with nobody else in it. That is, until Dianna showed up.

"What has been going on with you lately, hmm? You've been distracted, unfocused."

"Nothing," I lie, annoyed. Can't she take a hint?

"Come on! Do you think I'm stupid? Do you think we all are? What the hell is going on with you, Naya?"

"I don't wanna talk about it, alright! Just…please. Leave me alone!" More tears have begun making their way down my face and Dianna's expression immediately softens.

"Hey there," she coos, moving to sit next to me. She throws her arm around my shoulders, a lock of her short, blonde hair tickling my ear. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell. I just…we care about you, Naya. We all do. We just wanna know what's going on so we can help you."

I sniffle, taking this all in. It's clear that she wants to help. Apparently…everyone does? Everyone as in…?

"Wait, what do you mean '_we_ care about you'? Does everyone else think there's something up with me?"

A snort almost erupts from Dianna's throat but she shoves it back down, trying to maintain her 'well, _duh_' smile that's ever so close to gracing those pretty lips of hers. I guess she realizes the seriousness of my question when I don't even try to grin.

"Um, yeah, kind of. I mean, you haven't exactly been subtle about whatever this is, Naya. You've been way quieter than usual, you've turned down everyone's offers to go to lunch, you hardly ever come to parties; there's obviously something up and we, everyone, just want to know what we can do to help you."

I don't know what to say. On one hand, it's really sweet that they all care about me so much. Especially Dianna; she _is_ the one sitting on a bathroom floor talking to my right now. But on the other side of it, I know I'm not ready to tell people yet. I still have to figure things out for myself.

"Listen Di," I start out carefully, "Thank you for caring, thanks to everyone, I guess, but…I'm not really ready to talk yet."

"That's fine. But whenever you are, you know where to find me. Or anyone, for that matter. Does…does Heather know what's going on?" I give her a steely glare and she cowers a bit. "I only ask because usually you tell each other everything but when I was talking to her earlier, well, she seemed to have no idea what was up with you."

"Yeah, well I don't tell her everything, okay?" Between the growing anger and my sniveling voice, I'm amazed that Dianna hasn't called an insane asylum yet.

"I know that, Naya, but you tell each other a lot." Her voice is suddenly softer, making me realize the truth to her statement. I do tell Heather a lot, and she tells me equally as much, maybe even more as of late. I hate lying to her—well, technically I'm not _lying_, I'm just not being one hundred percent truthful…to her or me—but like I said, I'm simply not ready. I hate that every time I give her a one word answer or a smile when she says 'hello' rather than a big Naya hug, she looks like she's about to cry. I don't like making her hurt, but I have to protect my own feelings before anyone else's.

Maybe Dianna's right, though, maybe I _should_ tell someone what's going on. It'd certainly help having someone to talk to. Then again…I can't tell Heather…no. That would just make things more awkward and real. I don't want to spring everything on her in fear of her realizing my maybe-feelings for her.

"I know that, but this is something that's kind of…personal," I finally say in response.

"So personal that even Heather doesn't know? Geez, Naya, what is it? Are you okay?" She doesn't ask it mockingly, she's genuinely concerned. Great. Now I've got her to worry about, too.

"No, no. It's nothing bad. Yes, I'm fine. Well…kind of. I mean, I'm fine physically and stuff. I just…ugh." My mind is working a mile a minute and for the life of me I can't figure out what to say. My brain won't pinpoint one thought; rather it's flitting around, surfing through all the crap up in my head and trying to tell Dianna of it all at once.

"Naya," she murmurs soothingly, placing a warm hand on my thigh. "Stop. Breathe. If you want to tell me, then go ahead. Take your time; I'm in no rush. If not, then just know that I'm here for you, okay?" I nod silently. Her hand is rubbing circles on my flesh and it feels so damn relaxing. This is good. This is what I needed; some time to talk to a friend who's understanding, not judgmental, even though she has no idea what's going on.

"Thank you," I whisper, looking into her eyes to show my appreciation. She stares back and we sit like that for what seems like quite a while. There's something there in her face that's unreadable. It's almost as if she's got some deep, dark secret buried within her as well. I'm dying to know what it is but I know it'd be completely hypocritical of me to ask her when I'm not giving her anything to go by about me. Part of me really wants to tell her, of course, but then it'd make it real, and I'm not sure how I'll be able to handle that. If someone else knows…it just would be so much different. But maybe nice…

"Dianna?" I begin, taking a breath and steadying myself. "C-can I tell you something?"

The blonde next to me laughs, the loud sound echoing off the walls in the tiny bathroom. "Of course you can, silly, that's what I've been telling you this whole time."

"I just…I know. But…please don't judge me, okay?" I wince, my eyes squeezing shut for the briefest of seconds. I can't believe I'm about to do this. Breathe, Naya, breathe.

"Of course not," she says reassuringly, but I can tell there's a hesitance there. She seems to be wondering what could be so big that I'd warn her not to judge me.

"Okay, well just remember you asked for it."

I sit for a while, totally silent, the sounds of our breathing the only thing to be heard. I stare straight ahead at the painted white door. Some of the paint is peeling off in crackly bits and there's a small pile of paint chips on the ground. A leaky faucet begins making its presence known and I irritably whip my head towards it, as if that would shut it up.

"Um, Naya, are you gonna say anyt—"

"I think I'm gay."

I say it quickly to get it over with. I also go quiet when Dianna starts to speak but by the it's too late; the four words are already out of my mouth.

Oh shit.

Did I really just…?

My heart starts beating rapidly and I can feel a new level of adrenaline coursing through my veins. I can't believe I just said that out loud. I—

Oh. My. God. I just said that out _loud_.

I think it's registering.

I chance a glance towards Dianna and see that she's giving me a funny look. It partly looks like she wants to tell me something but it also seems as if she's debating how to reply. Come on now, Di, say something. You're killing me here.

"Really?" she finally asks. Her voice is soft, serene. I let out a long string of air I hadn't realized I'd been holding. Her calmness of the whole situation is relaxing me and I feel my shoulders deflate downwards. A few stray tears have started making their way down my face yet again, the few drops leaving salty trails in their wake.

"Yeah."

"Hey. Don't cry," she says when she notices I'm starting to heave once more. "Naya," she breathes when my cries only grow stronger. "Come here," she murmurs, pulling me into her arms and engulfing me with a much needed hug.

"Y-you're amazing, you know t-that, Dianna?" I mutter into her sweater, the sobs wracking my body making me stutter.

"You're not too bad yourself." She continues to rub circles over my back and when we pull away from each other she doesn't let go of my shoulders.

"Why are you crying?"

I sniffle and proceed to wipe my runny nose with the sleeve of my sweatshirt. Mascara and wetness also dab at the sweatshirt but I'm at a point where I really couldn't care less.

"Because I've never told anyone. And I don't even know if I am…you know."

"Well that's fine, there's no rush for this kind of thing."

Another silence passes by. My sobs are dying down to hiccups and I feel Dianna snuggling in closer to me. I sigh contently. It feels nice to have someone be there for you, to have a friend, to have a person willing to listen to all your crap. She's nuzzling closer now and I scooch in as well. I want all the comfort I can get. It's odd. Part of me is getting kind of awkwardly hot. Damn it, Naya. Stop it. You've already got Heather on your mind; you absolutely do NOT need Dianna in your dreams, too.

"I'm fine with it, you know that right?" Dianna says suddenly.

"Yeah, Dianna. I know."

"Good," she mutters into my hair, "good." She kisses my forehead lightly and I feel a shiver run down my spine.

"So can I ask you?"

I stare at her, bewildered, while she idly strokes a pale, perfectly polished finger up and down my arm. "Ask what?"

"About Heather."

I gulp. Oh shit. Does she know?

"Um. What about her?" I ask as normal as possible. I don't want to give anything away in case she's talking about something completely different.

"Do you…you know…like her?"

I pull back from her embrace and stare at her. There's no look of joking in her eyes, nor is she trying to contain any smiles of sorts. This is real. She's essentially asking me if I have a crush on my best friend. Damn it. I didn't want anyone to know I might be gay much less know I might be hopelessly in love with Heather.

"Well of course I like her, Di, she's my best friend."

She gives me a look that makes me shrivel back to the wall timidly. Of course she won't buy that.

Sighing, I give up. "Fine. Yes, okay? I think I might. That's…I mean, she's…she's the reason I even started questioning my sexuality in the first place." I look away, not wanting to meet Dianna's gaze in case she's gonna start making fun of me. I know she won't; I'm just being paranoid. But still…you never know. Falling for your best friend? It's just so damn cliché.

"Naya. Naya, come on. Look at me." Groaning internally I turn to meet my friend's caring gaze.

"I get it, okay?"

I stare at her, puzzled. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I know what it's like, how it feels."

I'm sorry, Miss Agron. What was that?

"You know how…what feels?"

"Lov—I mean, er. Falling for a friend. It sucks. But it feels good at the same time."

I soak this in, letting my thoughts wander to who perfect Dianna Agron could have fallen in unrequited-love with. Beats me. I never thought she could have a problem larger than 'what kind of outfit should I wear today that'll make all them Faberry slash Achele fans tumblr riot'.

Oh. _Oh._ Faberry. Fabray, Berry. Achele. Agron…Michele?

"Wait a minute, Dianna. Do you and Lea—?"

Before I can finish she clamps a hand over my mouth to shush me. "Geez Naya, what are you trying to do, alert the whole cast and crew?" I yank away and she sulks, looking down at her feet.

"Sorry, that was uncalled for."

"I'll say," I mutter. "What was that even about?"

"I…it's nothing, okay? Just forget I ever said anything."

She looks torn. Her face keeps morphing from excited to sad to confused. I want so desperately to ask her what she's talking about but don't want to push her. She had patience with me so it's only right for me to treat her the same way.

"Okay," I start hesitantly, "But just remember that I'm here for you."

She laughs and brushes something out of the corner of her eye, no doubt a loose tear threatening to fall. She catches it, though, and sighs deeply, running her hands through her short, blonde hair.

"When did you know you're gay?"

I blink, surprised at the suddenness of the question and the abrupt change in topic. "Um. Well…I don't know if I am gay, Dianna. I just…I think I might have feelings for Heather—how deep they run, I'm not sure—and I've had feelings for girls in the past, like, when I was younger and before Glee even got on its feet or I knew any of you. And I'll probably have feelings for women in the future. But that doesn't mean I'm gay. I'm still trying to figure stuff out here."

She nods in understanding, slowly moving her eyes around in a haphazard direction, perhaps to work her way through my new revelation. "I get that. Let me rephrase then. When did you start liking Heather?"

I shrug. "I don't know really. I guess maybe back towards the middle of season one. When I was dating Mark it was kind of a denial thing. I think I was trying to convince myself I'm straight and he was willing to go out with me so I was like 'why not', you know? But then I realized he was more like a big brother to me than anything so that was that. And after that I kept thinking about Heather and noticing women and guys sort of disappeared for awhile. So I don't really know."

Dianna sits with wide eyes, still snuggling close and now running her hands through my hair.

"Um. Sorry. That was probably way more info than you wanted to hear," I mumble, laughing nervously.

"Ha ha Naya, it's fine. I'm just happy you're finally talking to someone. It seems like you've had all this stuff on your mind for quite some time now."

"Yeah…"

"Well I'm honored you chose to tell me. And don't worry, I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to."

"Um, yeah. I'd appreciate that," I say. I feel bad making her keep a secret for me but like I said, I'm not ready for a public announcement just yet.

We sit in silence for a few minutes, both of our minds full with wheels turning and gears shifting. I have so much to sort through and I'm sure Dianna's feeling the same way. Reflecting on everything—all the tiny details in my childhood, all the guys I dated, all those times when I secretly loved hanging out with a certain female friend of mine many years ago, that euphoric sensation I got when we'd hug—I realize that I've probably known for a while now, I've just tried to convince myself otherwise. I don't know why, really. I mean, I wouldn't say I'm ashamed. I'm definitely not homophobic. I guess I just figured it'd be easier to…you know, stay in the closet, what with all the media attention and such.

I catch Dianna's wandering gaze and silently wonder what she's thinking about. Her eyes are fluttering every which way, her head turning, making her cute bob of a haircut swish adorably back and forth. I've never really noticed it before—okay, I _have_, but I've never really given it much thought—but Dianna really is one of the prettiest women I've ever met.

No. You know what? If I'm gonna be gay, I can say it.

Dianna's hot.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to act like that typical sixteen year old boy that calls dibs on the hottest girls in school (or in this case, work), but you have to admit, she's certainly something to look at. Everyone knows it; Cory, Kevin, and the rest of the guys have talked about it. So why can't I?

Whoa.

Can you please stop thinking about Dianna in that kind of way, Naya? Thanks. But then again…her flawless skin, pretty blonde hair, sexy curves—

Oh shit. She's giving me a look. Am I looking at her? Oops. I am. Damn it. I'll have to remember to be more subtle about this kind of stuff in the future. No! You'll have to remember to not _think_ about this kind of stuff in the future.

"Naya?"

"Yeah?" I answer, way too quickly. She gives me a quizzical look but continues, ignoring the jitteriness etched into my face.

"You okay there? You kind of…zoned out." She keeps out of her statement an obvious 'and you were staring at me'. Thank God for that.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine."

"Sure you are," she mumbles under her breath. As we sit in silence once more—this time an awkward one—I start thinking about what Dianna nearly let slip or let _not_ slip earlier. What was she talking about, falling for a friend? It was as if she was speaking from a definite amount of experience. But what friend could she fall for? Not Cory. I know the both of them too well to know that they'd never be in a relationship. Cory's too goofy and teddy-bear like to make a good boyfriend, at least to Dianna, whom he sees every day. I'm sure he'd make some other girl out there happy, just not someone from the Glee cast.

Then there's Mark. Hah. Mark. No way. I dated him, remember? And basing it off of my experiences with him, not that there were many…intimate ones—I was still trying to find out why my mind veered to Heather every time Mark and I kissed, after all—Dianna and him wouldn't make a good pair.

Kevin. No. Just…no. He's my Bee!

Chris? Um. I don't think I have to answer that.

Harry. Ehhh. Maybe. I mean, they'd be cute together. But think about it. Dianna dating someone in the cast? It just wouldn't happen. We're too much of a family for that. Sure Mark and I went out, but it was early in season one and, like I said, I was going through stuff.

I think that's it. Oh wait. Matt. Does he even count?

So who the hell else could Dianna be thinking of? There's not many people I know of that she's great friends with outside Glee. And even if there was someone I'm sure I'd know about him. Or at least Lea would; they tell each other everything.

Ah, Lea.

But…no. Dianna's straight. Like, ruler, arrow, edge of a piece of paper straight…right?

"Can I try something?"

I shake my head, willing myself back to the present. I almost forgot that the person in question is sitting right next to me. Looking up, though, there she is, makeup covering her face and adorned in that dress of hers, covered by a puffy, comfortable looking sweater.

"Uh…yeah, of course."

Before I know what's happening, Dianna's leaning into me, placing her hands lightly on the back of my neck.

"Don't freak out, okay?"

Sorry Agron, but I'm way past that point. It looks as if you're about to kiss me or something.

Keeping my mouth clamped shut I let her do as she wishes. She starts moving her hands lower, massaging my back soothingly. Her face keeps coming closer and closer and I swear I forget how to breathe. This…is…slightly…strange…

Her lips are now about a centimeter away from mine. Risking a chance of my voice sounding terribly croaky and nervous, I part my mouth slightly and breathe out a simple question, or at least one that _should_ be simple but perhaps isn't in this certain situation.

"W-what are you d-doing?" I can't contain the stutter in my voice; wouldn't _you_ be the teensiest bit confused if one of _your_ best friends was kneeling this close to you? Especially after finding out that they're most likely one hundred percent gay?

"Just go with it," she whispers. Less than a second after she says it, she connects her lips to mine. I don't wince or flinch or pull away. Instead, I moan, slanting in closer to her. She rubs her tongue along my bottom lip and I comply, opening my mouth the tiniest of millimeters and letting her explore the confines of my mouth.

She tastes sweet; her lip gloss, if I'm correct, is peach flavored and I immediately match Dianna's flavor to be peach. It suits her. Fuzzy and soft on the outside yet juicy and sometimes sour, like the feistiness we all know she can render up, on the inside. I sigh inwardly. This is nice. I'm kissing Dianna and I'm surprisingly calm. I'm—

Wait a minute. I'm kissing Dianna.

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

I pull away suddenly, as if I'm a little kid again who just touched her finger to the hot burner of a stove. Dianna recoils back too, a hurt look flashing across her face. It immediately turns to anger and then to confusion. I watch as her expressions act as a movie reel; each one portraying her quickly-changing feelings.

"Dianna, stop." I place my hand on hers and attempt to calm her down.

"I-I'm _so_ sorry, Naya," she gushes almost inaudibly, refusing to meet my gaze.

"Hey, stop." I pull her chin up towards mine so I can look right at her. "In case you didn't notice, I wasn't doing anything to stop it."

Dianna goes to respond but stops, as if she's considering this true and perplexing fact.

"Well still, I'm sorry. I should just…" She stands up shakily, making her way towards the door. "I should go."

"No. Di, wait. Please!" Before I can stop her, though, she's outta there, turning out of the bathroom into the hallway and making a beeline through the many corridors and sets.

"Damn it," I mutter to myself. The sound echoes off the bathroom walls, making me realize I'm alone once more. Only this time, I feel more alone than I've ever felt in my life.


	2. Drinking, It's Good for the Soul

**A/N: Sorry it took me a while to update; with school I'm not sure how much I'll get to write, though I try my hardest. Thanks to all those who read, favorited, or alerted. It means a lot. Special thanks goes to 6ixty, Quinntana4Ever, Torchica, and Santana Badass Lopez for reviewing. Your input means the world to me and for that I thank you. Please review, it really does help me write better and faster. Anons are always welcome. **

**Note: This chapter isn't as long as I had hoped but I got to a certain point and thought it was a good place to end. First part is in Dianna's point of view, second in Naya's. **

**Note: I'm not sure if you can make RPF characters be OOC since they're real people, but I feel like that's what kind of happened. I'm kind of annoyed but it is what it is. I guess ya'll will find out, though. Review or PM me and let me know what you thought. **

**Disclaimer: Glee does not belong to me. This fic is unbeta'd so any mistakes are mine. **

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><p>[How can I forget you when you're always on my mind? How can I not want you when you're all I want inside? How can I let you go when I can't see us apart? How can I not love you when you control my heart? -Unknown]<p>

"Lea."

Nothing. She just keeps on walking, as if I'm not frantically trying to keep up with her.

"Lea!"

Still nothing.

"Lea, please just listen to me."

A pause. Then a slight turn of the head. A sigh. Wait, that was me.

"What, Dianna?" she asks wearily as she turns around. Another sigh on my part. Relief floods through me as I realize I may actually have a chance. What I've wanted for so long…it could come true in a matter of minutes. Maybe even seconds, if I leaned in right here, right now, and kissed her. But no…wouldn't want to rush into things. Lea, though a cuddler and romantic softy, is delicate at heart. The slightest tip of a metaphorical heart-shaped iceberg could have her falling, and falling hard. I don't wanna break my girl.

I can barely contain my excitement as I prepare to answer Lea's question. "I did it."

"You did what?" she asks, genuinely confused, a puzzled look plastered on that overly-pretty face of hers.

"Well, for starters, I had a very interesting conversation with Naya."

"Interesting?" This seems to pique her curiosity.

"Um…kind of." What _would_ I call it? Deep? Heartfelt? Heartbreaking? All of the above? Probably…yeah. Definitely.

"Anyways. It got me thinking. I think…I think I'm ready."

"Ready?" There's that confused look again. Come on Lea; don't make me say it aloud.

"Yeah…ready."

She stares at me, clearly baffled. I stare back, boring my eyes into hers, twiddling my hands in front of me. A few seconds go by and I pull up the left strap of my dress as it begins to slide. She's silent. Is that good? It certainly could be. Or not. Could this be any more awkward?

"Dianna…"

"Lea," I respond as soon as she says my name. Her eyes look guilty and I swallow, gulping away a lump as it slowly builds in my throat.

"Dianna…I think you've gotten the wrong idea."

"Um, no. No. I haven't. Y-you said…" I feel my heartbeat pick up and I wipe at my forehead, brushing away a light sheen of sweat. I'm panicking, I can feel it. Is this what a heart attack feels like?

"I know what I said, Dianna," she replies curtly, cutting me off with her biting tone and a swift wave of her hand. My eyes go wide; aside from our most recent conversation prior to this one, we've never raised our voices at each other, not once. We're too much like peanut butter and jelly, Batman and Robin, Santana and Brittany, if you will, to argue.

Noticing this, Lea's face softens and her shoulders relax. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell. And I don't mean to snap, but really, I'm not sure if you understood me the last time…"

"I kissed Naya," I blurt out suddenly. Oops.

"Shit!" I hiss quietly. I hold my breath and squeeze my eyes shut.

"I'm sorry. You did what?" she asks in disbelief.

"I—yeah…"

"And why did you do that?"

I groan and run my hands down my face. I wasn't exactly planning to share that specific piece of information, but it kind of slipped out. You can't blame me, though; I'm doing everything I can think of here. If telling Lea I kissed a women will reassure her, then so be it. I'll take any assistance I can get.

"Because…because she was having a hard time with stuff and she kind of…told me she was gay."

Lea looks taken aback and I assume it's a new piece of information for her. I'm not surprised really. I mean, everyone knows Naya and Heather are touchy-feely, but I think they mostly reason it to be because of their close friendship. (Minus the Heya fans, of course; they read into the simple hand graze or even a picture of them standing ten feet apart—doesn't matter how far away they are, they're still in the picture together.) I, on the other hand, had a feeling, this lurking inkling, that there was something much deeper going on under the surface. I suppose I was half right. Naya loves Heather; that much is obvious. But Heather…I don't really know how far that side of it goes. She and Taylor…I hate to say it, for Naya's sake, but those two have chemistry.

"And so you kissed her?" I'm snapped back to the present at Lea's demanding tone.

"Uh. Yeah."

"And why the hell would you do that? She's probably having a hard enough time with this as it is, am I right?" I nod, afraid to speak. I've never seen Lea so worked up over something and I'm not about to interrupt this fiery yet kind of sexy side of her.

"She's probably all freaked out, hm? Probably has no idea what to do? God, Dianna. She's probably trying to figure out her feelings for Heather and then you go and kiss her?"

Ummmm.

"Heather?" I blink, puzzled. I never said anything about Heather, did I, not at loud at least? No? Good. So I'm not going insane.

"Yes, Dianna. Heather." She looks annoyed and I try my hardest to blend into the wall at her penetrating glare. "Roughly 5' 8", blonde hair, blue eyes; I'm sure you've seen her around."

I roll my eyes and thankfully she doesn't see. "I get it, Lea. How did you know Naya has feelings for Heather?"

This time Lea's the one rolling her eyes. "Oh, _please_, Dianna. You think I'm stupid? It's so obvious. Everyone knows it."

Oh? I guess I was wrong, then.

"Really?"

"Yes." She looks at me like I've grown an extra limb. "But that's not the point. Stop distracting me." I swear I see a glint of playfulness in her eyes, a hint of a smile forming, but as soon as I catch it, it's gone.

"Lea. I really don't get why you're making such a big deal of this. You told me we couldn't be together because I had to figure myself out first. Well, guess what? I've figured myself out. I kissed Naya and I liked it." She squints her eyes and cocks her head the tiniest of bits. "I don't mean to say I like _her_, but I definitely enjoyed kissing her," I add quickly. I don't want Lea to get the wrong idea, after all.

She doesn't say anything for a while and I begin to panic again. My breathing becomes labored and I slide down to the ground, leaning against the wall, my head tilted back. Lea notices and slides down next to me, concern written all over her face.

"Hey," she whispers quietly. "You okay?"

I nod. "Give me a minute," I manage to wheeze out. She nods and sits back, sighing. I look up at the ceiling while I try to catch my breath. The air vents in the ceiling hum, almost noiselessly. The painted walls of the hallway are beginning to peel and the carpet has frays peeking up in random spots. Despite its slightly torn appearance, I really love this place. Being on set is one of the only things that makes me feel good these days. Between Lea being on my mind and this whole 'figure myself out' thing—which are basically the same thing—I've been pretty stressed. All the singing, dancing, and acting take my mind off of things I don't particularly want to think about, and for that, I'm immensely thankful.

When my breathing is down to a shallow normalness, I speak up. "I'm sorry."

"Dianna, don't apologize for having a panic attack."

I shrug, not wanting to retract my statement. I mean it. I am sorry. But I'm not just apologizing for grossly overreacting. She doesn't know. She just doesn't get it. I'm apologizing for a month's worth of missed lunch dates, movie nights, girly talks. I've missed spending time with her, and I feel like it's all my fault. I always feel bad when I turn down her offers to come over. My stomach drops every time I 'rain-check' her. And what makes everything even worse, it really is my doing. She told me to not be a stranger; to figure myself out yet not make it awkward. She's the one who wanted normality and I shot her down. I'm the one who thought it would have been too odd, too uncomfortable, too heartbreaking. So yes. I have to apologize.

"Dianna," Lea starts, her voice reserved and cautious. Great. Here it comes. Her reaction towards my clandestine kiss with Naya confirmed it. Rejection. She's found someone else, no doubt about it. She's moved on. I took too long, took my sweet time in trying to figure myself out. And now this is what I get. Ugh. Why am I so—

"Dianna. Look at me." Startled, I turn my head towards her. She's so beautiful, she really is. I smile; her hair looks so silk-like, her eyes so dark and inviting.

"I-I think you misunderstood me the last time we had this kind of…discussion. I didn't exactly say that we couldn't be together because you had to figure yourself out first."

This throws me for a loop. But hey, that's good, right? "Okay…well whatever. It doesn't matter _how_ you said it, Lea. The words don't matter. What matters is that I'm ready. I've figured myself out and sure, it may have involved Naya, and yeah, in hindsight, maybe that wasn't the best idea, but what's done is done. I'm ready." How many times do I have to say it? Can't she hear me?

"Dianna. The words _do_ matter, though. I-I didn't _mean_ that. What I said was that we should talk about…the nature of our relationship…once you figured yourself out."

What is her problem? Arguing words? Lea's not one to do that. "Okay…so, great. Same difference. I've figured myself out. Let's talk. I'm ready for you. The only question left is if…if you're ready for me." I swallow thickly. This is it. The lottery ticket winning question. Big deal right here, folks.

"That's the thing I don't think you're getting here, Di. There is no 'we'. There is no 'us'. Th-there never was."

I'm silent for what seems to be hours. Then, "But…I thought…" Is that really my voice? It sounds way too quiet to be me, way too fragile. God, my face must look so messed up right now. Lea evidently notices and snuggles closer, throwing her arm around my shoulder.

"No…no. Don't do that." I pull away, albeit reluctantly, and it earns me a hurt look from the shorter girl next to me. I look away; I can't stand to look at her, not like that. True, I'm the heartbroken one here, but I know by withdrawing it'll only pain Lea more. She hates fights, hates anything other than tight hugs and friendly smooches (which, by the way, seem much too friendly sometimes). Apparently, though, I'm wrong. Guess I've been reading into this way more than reality was.

"Don't do what?" Lea asks softly, barely audible.

"Don't pretend like you care."

She looks astonished, stunned, as if a Taser struck her on its highest setting. "That's ridiculous, Dianna. You know I care. Of course I care. I care." She repeats it, perhaps to engrain it in her head. And why would you need to do that, dear Lea? Hmm? Not so sure now, are you?

"Well then explain something to me, Lea, please. You told me you'd wait. You waited. I thought things through. I don't get why we're still having this conversation!" My voice raises, specks of anger flying every which way. She flinches back and half of me wants to console her while the other half smirks sadistically.

"Because! Sure, I told you I'd wait. But that doesn't mean I was planning on getting together with you! I'm not gay, Dianna!"

Oh.

_Oh._

Well _that_ makes a considerable amount of sense.

"Wait…I. W-what? You…I…but we. What?" It's all I can stutter out. My mind's working about five hundred miles a second, my body functioning on five cups of coffee and a carrot stick. And now this?

"Dianna," she starts slowly, carefully, voicing the words as if they're delicate figurines tottering on a tightrope. "I…I know what we did. But it didn't mean anything. Surely you understood that? Well…I guess you didn't. Now, though…you must."

It's more of a statement than a question; I assume she's trying to do all she can to convince herself it's the truth. Because no matter what she says, no matter what happens, I know Lea cares about me. She's just too kind of a person to not. Despite all that's happened between us, we're still best friends. I know she's too sweet to break someone's heart, even if romance wasn't involved.

"No. Lea. Just…no. Stop. Please stop talking." To my surprise, she clamps her mouth shut and looks towards me to continue.

"I...you…." Breathe, Dianna. Think about what you're gonna say here, don't just rush into things. "We kissed, Lea. We kissed." She opens her mouth in protest but I cut her off. "No. Can't you just listen to me? One minute, that's all I'm asking." She hesitates but weakly motions for me to go on. "Good. Now…You can't expect me to just give up that easily, can you?"

"BUT I NEVER SAID I WANTED TO BE TOGETHER!" She's steaming and I recoil, banging the back of my head into the wall in the process.

"Then why the hell would you kiss me, Lea. Why?"

"I didn't kiss you! You kissed me! I just didn't stop you…" She trails off, as if she's finally realizing the seriousness of what she did. Well good. She deserves to feel guilty. No…wait. No she doesn't. I love her; I can't be walking around thinking bad upon her. But…yes. Why can't I? She…and I…ugh.

"Exactly. And now you're telling me you're not gay?"

"I'm not." The response is quick and, though I subconsciously knew this would be the outcome, it still hurts like hell to be rejected.

"Well…are you bi?"

"No."

"So you're straight then."

She nods, looking down. I know she feels bad but I'm feeling about one hundred times worse. I have to get away; it's the only thing that'll keep me sane right now. I have to find an empty room. I need to do _something_. I can't just sit here and let her break me into a million pieces. Maybe punching something'll do me some good. Get some of that repressed anger out. Or I'll find someone to talk to. Naya; I'll find Naya. Oh. Wait. I kissed her. Right…

I stand up quickly, startling Lea.

"W-where are you going?" she asks as she brushes away a stray tear.

"I don't know. Somewhere. Anywhere," I mutter. "I just…I need time to think, to process this all, okay?"

She's hesitant, but I'm positive she'll let me go. She knows me too well; she understands that my way of coping is thinking, sorting through my thoughts with a fine-toothed comb.

"Fine." I never thought one word could sound so defeated. "But…call me later? Or text? Or try to find me? I'm gonna be here late."

I have a mind to ask her why; it's already late as it is. The only reason any of us are here is because we ended up having to stay an extra three hours to ground out a difficult dance routine. Of course Heather and Harry nailed it, but some of us (ahem, Cory) weren't as good. I really don't mind, though. It's not like I have anyone to go home to. Except Arthur. He's my lifeline right now.

Instead of questioning her, though, I rub my eyes, give her one last, watery-eyed glance, and head off down the hall, not looking back even once. I can't. I know I'd break down and go running back to her. And really. What kind of storm-off would that be? I suppose this isn't any better though. Dragging my feet through a tiny corridor whilst tears stream down my face? Hah. Yeah. Intense.

Reaching the door to the parking lot I decide to leave. I don't wanna go to my trailer—there's too many Lea memories there—but I pretty much have everything I need; my phone, my purse. And luckily I have a decently stocked stash of alcohol back at my house. I'm not one to drink excessively, especially when I'm upset. I usually talk any problems I have out with Lea. But I guess that option is out.

Alcohol it is.

* * *

><p>["Alcohol may be man's worst enemy, but the bible says love your enemy." -Frank Sinatra]<p>

"Heather, give me a call. I really need to talk to you about something. It's…I'm. Shit. It's just really important, okay? And I wanna talk to you before I talk to anyone else and I really need my best friend right now and just…please. Just call me."

I hang up, pushing the end button on my cell much more forceful than necessary. I sigh and swat furiously at tears which, to my displeasure, have been falling freely for the past hour. I lean my head against the wall and breathe in deeply, trying to calm my shaky voice. My throat feels raw from all the crying and I could definitely go for a cup of warm tea right now. Or a beer. Hell. Make it two.

I'm still in the damn bathroom; after Dianna left it took me about ten minutes to get over my shock, fifteen minutes to decide what to do, another fifteen to stop crying enough for me to pull out my cell, and twenty to work up the courage to actually dial Heather's number. I don't even know what I would have told her had she answered. I'm silently happy it went to voicemail. I'm not sure I could have actually handled a conversation, not when I thought I had feelings for her—and strong feelings at that—because that kiss of Dianna's made me question almost everything I've ever felt.

What the hell was even with that? I mean, Dianna? Really? I always assumed she was as straight as a fucking arrow. Who knows, though? Maybe she was just trying to be a supportive friend…yeah. A supportive friend who happens to be straight and so kisses her recently-discovered, out-of-the-closet-for-less-than-twenty-four-hours gay friend? Not likely.

"Ugh," I groan to no one in particular. I am alone in here, after all. The noise reverberates off the walls and echoes the tiniest of bits. I sniffle and swear I breathe in a shot of Dianna's vanilla perfume. Then again, she left an hour ago. Maybe it's my mind. But why would it be thinking of Dianna?

Deciding I should really get up, go change, and get the hell out of here, I stand up, arching my back and cracking it. I stretch out my arms and wiggle out my legs, which have long since fallen asleep. I walk over to the sink and splash some water on my face. I must look like a fool; the smeared makeup, tussled hair, red eyes. The water doesn't much help so I give up, grabbing my bag and exiting the bathroom.

I walk through the hallways, turning corner after corner, weaving around random instruments and piles of sheet music and the occasional prop, and make my way to the door leading outside. I swore I heard a sob as I was walking, but I had disregarded it, knowing hardly anyone's left. It _is_ late and usually, when we have late nights, no one likes staying after hours if they don't have to. Guess I'm the exception to that rule. And Dianna. And whoever was crying, if someone even was. I could just be going crazy. You never know.

I end up in my car, somehow changed and cleaned up. I walked through the parking lot in a daze, thinking about nothing and everything: Heather, Dianna, me, Dianna, Heather. I'm sensing a pattern.

I shove my keys in the ignition and start up the engine. It roars to life and I zoom away, not giving good old Paramount a second glance. Why does everything dramatic that happens in mine or Santana's life seem to happen here? Oh. Right. Because Santana lives here and I practically do. Why do I even own a house? I could just rent out Santana's or Brittany's room and sleep there. It'd only be for, like, seven hours a night. Or less. Because honestly. When are we ever at home? Plus, I'm sure Ryan wouldn't mind the extra money. He should make it a business; Rent a Room: Glee Edition. Pay to sleep in your favorite character's bedroom. Gleeks would go crazy.

When I pull into my driveway I don't even bother pulling my bag and coat from the backseat. I simply grab my phone and keys and head inside. I'm too exhausted to do anything else.

I throw my phone without looking where it's going (thankfully it ends up on the couch) and immediately thrust open my liquor cabinet. I start pouring liquids into a cup, not even bothering to look what all the bottles say. I just pour, as if my life depends on it.

As I'm nursing my second drink of the night my phone rings. "Back to Black" bursts through the silent room and I sigh, place my drink on the counter, and silently curse whoever's calling. Maybe it's Heather. That'd be good, right? No. I'm really not in the mood to talk to anyone right now.

"H'llo who be this…" I slur out, my words a jumbled mess. I didn't even bother looking at the caller ID so for all I know I could be drunkenly answering Mr. Ryan Murphy himself. Great, Naya. Smooth thinking. Why not get yourself fired while you're at it?

"Naya?" Well. _That's_ certainly not Ryan. Unless his voice got about an octave or two higher and he's drinking, as well.

"Dianna?"

"Hey, Nay-Nay. I was thinkin'…you should come o'er. I-I'm sad and I need a friend." She hiccups and I hear her giggle. I may be drunk, but if I am, then she's practically dead.

"Have you been dri…dri…drinking?" I can hardly get the word out; the room has begun to spin and words verbalizing good correctly catches my focus. Oops.

She laughs and I roll my eyes. Well of course she's been drinking. S'pose that makes two of us, though.

"You should come o'er here. The house is all lonely." I swear I hear a 'without you' or 'without her' or maybe both follow the statement, but I don't question it. I'm drunk; that much is obvious. She's drunk; that's even more obvious. She's called me up to tell me I should come over. At this point, the evident is undeniable.

"I'm on my way."


End file.
